I kept meaning - again - to write up something about Eastercon, but there's nothing much to be said about it (apart from that I had a good time) beyond a few simple statements: I made it to not one single programme item, as such: I was not on one single panel - I'd been scheduled to be on one panel on the Friday evening, but bowed out at the last minute when it clashed with a Tor UK event at Borders in the city centre. The money Tor are paying me, the least I figure I can do is turn up at one of their do's. Apart from that, I hung out in the bar area and talked to people. A fellow author offered incredibly kindly to review Against Gravity with a view towards a possible - but not guaranteed - piece in The Guardian. Colour me hopeful.
And that's pretty much it, apart from my back pain (probably slipped disc, followed by interminable sciatica) forcing me to pick up a cheap walking stick on the Saturday morning of the Con at an Argos (where, apparently, you really can buy pretty much anything), allowing me to at least hobble around the environs of the Crowne Plaza Hotel down there on the banks of the Clyde.
I'm afraid the back did rather take a turn for the worse over the period of the Convention, as a result of which I've decided to postpone my mooted long holiday in the States until at least next year: if I have this much trouble getting to a hotel less than half a mile from my own front door and hanging around in the bar for an evening, how the hell am I going to hack getting around an entire continent? I really don't think so.
Anyway, I just ordered one of those weird-looking 'kneeling' chairs off of Ebay, so when it arrives here in a couple of days we'll see if it makes any difference. And if you're going to advise me to see a chiropractor - thanks, but I'll skip. I've canvased available medical opinion far and wide, and the opinion on the chiropracty is low, low, low.